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More Poetry From Seun Ayoade




Copyright © 2014 Seun Ayoade The 199 Palace

All rights reserved.






p<{color:#000;}. ARTHUR O’ SHAUGHNESSY


p<{color:#000;}. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX




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p={color:#000;}. Acknowledgments
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p<{color:#000;}. THE FIRST SCORE POEMS



Within worlds

Exist worlds within worlds

Fathers begotten of their sons

Renewed strength to wrong flaws

Lone gunmen,




To wait for exam results

Whether one did well or not

Is what I don’t like



Crushed, insecure, anything but bold

I feel tired, worn, naked and cold



Pulsating down his weary cheeks

Is the tickling blood of his enemy

Mingled with his blood-shed for his protection

At the western frontier’s horizon


This is war, this is battle

Find your courage, find your mettle

Those who determine in their hearts to live

Will be hit by the bullet and buckle to their knees


Those who resolutely want to die

And stick their necks out in gunfire

Will live and walk and breathe and survive

Cursed be the omens of battle –unfair crazy umpire



Death is a woman

Murder is a man

The twain be inseparable

By any human hand


Love is a catalyst

Passion a balm

You need no analyst

To predict their charm


Onions smart the eyes

Garlic the fingers

A man without hope

He’s already gone under



To believe in it

That I will win the essay

Is very stupid



Shining slowly, shining bright

The lone star of my messed up life

I hope will finally emerge a sun

Giving succor to one and all



Boanerges of mercy, boanerges of peace

Why must you scream, gesticulate and weep?

What you are saying we have oft heard before

What you show now we have seen before


Enough of your tales, your mouth of mammon

Give us evidence, hard facts and the uncommon

Give us pure success, and let us not lack

And we shall be the first to give you a slap on the back




Samuel sits silently singing solemn songs

Ruth ran risks rescuing Rachel

Hawaiian homes have heaters

Jamaican judges generally judge justly


Ronnie Rastaman repeatedly requested radio reggae

Lenny left Libya for London

Leaving her lovely locket at Lisbon

Compasses kept kletus catching cold



All yesterday wasted, all night too

It’s like one skipped to the loo

Then when getting there became suddenly wroth

Because the feeling to micturate was lost



At night when shadows descend

The purity of sunlight must come to an end

And the new darkness that replaces it

Will make the children feel ill at ease


So they make for their flashlights and electric switches

As the shadows on the walls look like evil witches

But when the artificial light is back again

They feel happy and ready to play



I’m scared, I’m a trifle insecure

My confidence is shattered, concentration is not pure

My heart races with no finish line

In utter anxiety I pine


I have all the tools at my disposal

They cannot offer any refusal

I am charged, I am ready, I am good to go

Nothing can hold me back, nothing, oh no!




I thought I saw James Bond

With his Walther PPK gun

I looked again-and saw it was only Mr. Burns

‘if you don’t beat it!’ I screamed

‘I’ll reach for my shotgun’


I thought I saw osama

Trying to plant a bomb

I looked again and saw it was only Peeping Tom

‘Egad, if he gets any closer I’ll have to beat a drum’


I thought I saw a swastika

On my front lawn

I looked again and saw it was a damsel all forlorn

‘Come in for tea’ I said to her ‘before you get sunburn’


I thought I saw a lion-roaring in the night

I looked again and saw it was only my flashlight

‘I’ll put a battery in you-and find out if you light’


I thought I saw a ghost heading for my castle

I looked again and saw it was just harmattan drizzle

‘If this happens again’ I declared

‘I’m switching from petrol to diesel’


I thought I saw a box of cigars lying on my bed

I looked again and saw it was my dirt brown singlet

‘If I ripped and smoked you would you burn like a cigarette?’


I thought I heard on radio that world war 3 had begun

I listened again and heard it was only the news at morn

‘If world war 3 had come I’d have had nowhere to run!’



Many, many aeons ago

When truth was valued as gold

And purity like silver

I lived alone, a spinster


Then came a suitor so divine

And roused me from my state supine

And taught me how true were lies

And how kindness was man’s only guile



I did a little evil so I could do a great good

Stole from the wicked for his own good

Led men into captivity to free their minds

With unspeakable cruelties I made them kind


I’m not scared of circumstances

Circumstances are scared of me

I’m not scared of the future

The future is scared of me


I do not fear torture

Torture should flee from me

I do not fear failure

It does not exist in my dictionary


What can smash the hardest rock

And swim the deepest seas?

What can make oases in desert spots

And carve new territories?


It is hard work and determination

Before whom failure runs

It is boldness and perseverance

Which lights dark tunnels of despair

Like could the sun



Samuel spent Saturday sailing, surfing and searching

The seashore for sea shells

Janet the giant gently, in a jiffy gyrated with

Judith the gypsy jail janitor



I hate it when people are

Cunning when they should be clever

Sly when they should be wise

Wasteful when they should be generous

Wavering when they should be firm

Steal when they should farm

And put others in the way of harm


I hate it when people destroy what they cannot build

Refuse to join societies or form their own guild

Refuse to accept their glaring guilt

Show the blade when they should show the hilt



Lend me your ears

Borrow me your souls

I will pay you back

With only God knows



Genius redundant

Genius manifest

Genius revealed

Genius circumspect

Genius arising

Genius begun

Unbelievable understanding

As bright as the sun.












[* 2- the second score poems *]




A thousand and five books sold

Heart of shining gold

As young as he is old

Seun Ayoade the bold



Corroborant, laxative, purgative, painkiller

Liquid, capsule, tablet, intracellular

Drips, catheters, implants, dentures

Courtesy of your friend in white called a doctor


Blood pressure, eyesight testing, urine sampling

Questioning, arguing, case file browsing

Injections, thermometers, heart rate testing

And finally in horrible writing your drug dispensing


Tis the world of doctors, the world of the clinic

Planet of nurses, physiotherapists, dentists and pharmacists

The realm of stethoscopes, thermometers and syringes

Of wards, intensive care, ambulances and heavy bills!



When my life is troubled

When I am full of distress

There exists a place I can travel

To find a means of redress


It is called the river of silence

Where speaking is done without words

It is the place of reverence

Where the unuttered becomes a powerful force


Looking into the still waters of the river

At my own reflection therein

My past and present flash in a glimmer

And I see my past erring


Then I reason and calculate

What I am to do next

And it all eventually correlates

And I leave refreshed


And sometimes if I’m patient

And concentrate long enough

I see flashes of my future

And then I’ve had enough


For what I see in those flickers

Is infinitely awesome

And I feel honoured

That I’m not someone else’s son



The men are separated from the boys

The toys from the trolleys

The Bentley outshines the Ford

The Royce the Bentley



Empty your classes and empty your harems

Cajole your foe with the crudest terms

When what will fall will fall from heaven

Earth will be unable to stand



Yet he strikes relentless

I feel sorry for him

He does not know that to bury his hate

Will make him free


Yet he fights on, relentless

In rage destroying

Himself more than any supposed foe

He fights on relentless


Oh how he fights in vain

To fight the kind of fights he fights

And win is like reasoning

With a Saracen


Yet he fights, relentless

And I fight back too

In time he will come to see that

Even he can rue



Upon a stag with name morango

Sourly sweet and sweetly sour

Did the walk I did with her

In my quest to be a perfect rider


Upon a male horse then called eagle

An awkward run far from stable

The first white horse I’d ever mount

And I intend to continue the count



Reminisce and rue

Far from true

Is the ideal now facing me

Pretending to be an ideal

When it is trash,



And the ideal I still seek

Like ash

Appears hard to gather

Like a child its father

From the womb


What a wound



Lest in dying we don’t die but die

It is not eternal which can yet chide

And with strange epochs even death may die


Even the neconimicron will one day fry

Whether it wills it may try

The hunger and misery I now face will pass

A sacred cow will eventually eat grass



When the barrier

Turned to a door

We were still

Quite unsure


It would take

More than that gate

To convince us

To haste


An animal that has been trapped

For so long, in a trap

Will not flee at first release

No matter with what ease


The trap is sprung

For when wrung

A piece of cloth must wait it out

To dry by any account



From mujara to yola

Went Mister perfect

I miss you all

But have no regrets




And I awake


And it was great



And we will see


It’s just lucky



How are the mighty fallen

How are his seed begging bread

How is the cotton falling

On the road for snow, instead?




Are the walls

That bind me

That dam my channels of the past

From securing actions


Who built these stores and why

Will pale into insignificance when by and by

They are dissolved

Into nonexistence



Why do I have nightmares each time I close my eyes?

Even during the day

It’s like there’s not one good thought to stay

Nor good word to say

Not even one light or ray

Goodness never seems to come my way


Why can’t I just be like everyone else?

Why must something or someone take offence

Why can’t I just be left to live like I’ve let others live

Everyone to me, must sorrow give


One man’s meat

Is another man’s poison

One man’s pain

Is another’s gain


Show me the joy in the eye of the joyful

I will show you the sorrow in the eye of the sorrowful

Show me the man literally praying for sunshine

And I will show you the man praying literally for rain




Mine, mine, it is all mine

Hot or cold, malign or benign

From the wheeziest breath to the chilliest shiver

Sickness and disease only bide the time


Balm and ointment, capsule and tablet

Intravenous infusions, wheelchairs and pallets

Tooth decay rinses, doctors like princes

Wending lordly ways in their death masks of white


To end my strife, they take under the knife

Those who I put my sore fingers on

Laser surgery, chiropractor mastery

All in vain my firm grip to sway


A scald or a rupture, a tear or a burn

Tissues fall apart, wearied and worn

They die and against all laws of regeneration

In a much worse off state are finally reborn

Tinker and prattle, wonder and rattle

In darkened halls, my names are whispered

Virus, fungus, bacterium, worm

Typecast, I can nevertheless transform



Because I came out

Declaring my intentions

I was ostracized


Tell me I pray thee

What exactly is my crime

Fighting for freedom?



New origami

Illusions to have and hold

Afterwards to close



My origami

Illusions to have and hold

Afterwards to close


Later to show

To those who understand it

Paper miracles










My palindromes are many

Yet my palindromes are few

Madam, bob, radar and then nurses run

Just to name a few


The madam, the wife of Bob

Espied on the radar

Something that was wrong

Nobody could understand-what made the nurses run



Dapple dapple

I cantered the dapple

Kicking and trotting

Then for the first time cantering!



Better deceased than diseased

Ill than ill at ease

Erased than outdated

Dead than wounded



The eve of Christmas eve

No hope no reprieve

Grief grief grief

No sign of relief



Let the fireworks resound

Let the drums roll

Golliwog unbound

A solstice show



Helpless but powerful

Helpful but powerless

Much certainly is less

Life is death


‘Evil’ is ‘live’ spelled backwards

‘God’ is ‘dog’ the other way

Sometimes the opposite of what we think of

Is not the way



Easy to see, difficult to believe

You will see it but you will not believe it


Seeing is not believing

Believing is not seeing

Seeing is seeing

Believing is believing



The wicked swine

Have had their time

Now they will pine

Like an earthworm in brine



Why am I always suffering

Why is my life always sorrow, sorrow?

Yesterday, today and tomorrow?

Who hates me and why?

Who is the spy?


That risky feeling when something good wants to happen

And turns to something forbidden

I will find you

And strike



It’s not the best

But it’s not the worst either

If you can’t get a bull

Use a heifer


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Poetry from the guy who wrote 'double bill'

  • ISBN: 9781370088478
  • Author: Seun Ayoade
  • Published: 2017-07-16 14:03:07
  • Words: 19169
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